


Red Bounty

by ThreeHats



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 21:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7523185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeHats/pseuds/ThreeHats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen shifted uncomfortably, his wrists restrained to the arms of the chair he was being forced to sit in against his will.  His skin burned with every twist of the rope he tried, and so he stopped trying, giving himself a moment to rest while he collected his thoughts.  A long, wooden table sat before him, with people placed down the entire length at both sides.   There were no dishes, no flatware, no glasses, just live bodies placed before placemats and a vibrant red table cloth covering the dark wood.  At the opposite end of the table rested a large serving dish, heaped high with pale, bloodied meat; it was just the beginning of the harvest.</p><p>All characters, locations and scenarios were pulled out of a hat to create this story, which was written in 30 minutes or less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Bounty

**Characters:** Cullen and Roman Reigns   
**Location:** Dinner Party  
 **Scenario:** People they're trying to save don't want to be saved

 

All characters, locations and scenarios were pulled out of a hat to create this story, which was written in 30 minutes or less.

\--

Cullen shifted uncomfortably, his wrists restrained to the arms of the chair he was being forced to sit in against his will. His skin burned with every twist of the rope he tried, and so he stopped trying, giving himself a moment to rest while he collected his thoughts. A long, wooden table sat before him, with people placed down the entire length at both sides. There were no dishes, no flatware, no glasses, just live bodies placed before placemats and a vibrant red table cloth covering the dark wood. At the opposite end of the table rested a large serving dish, heaped high with pale, bloodied meat; it was just the beginning of the harvest.

Sweat trickled through his ruffled blond hair and down his brow, stinging his eyes as he blinked fiercly. He looked at his friend to his left, the only other familiar face in the room. Roman Reigns met his glance, stern, glistening face a stark contrast to Cullen's, which was most likely red and drenched in sweat. Reigns' calm might have been comforting if the man were capable of any other expressions, but in the short time Cullen had known him, he had found the man lacking in many of those.

Reigns had come to the Inquisition just a few weeks ago with alarming news: that residents in his village had gone missing at an alarming rate over the last 6 months. In his attempts to track them down, he had found that they all had one thing in common--the last person they were spotted with was a known apostate and blood mage named Hannibal. Reigns had found only one survivor in his search, a woman who was left for dead in a forest with several pieces of her body methodically carved out. One of her legs was missing, the other had a sizeable chunk sliced out from the back of her thigh. Her sides bled so much that there was no real way of telling where the injury had been. She let him know where Hannibal had been last spotted, and Roman had tracked down the Inquisition for help, pledging his undying support to the cause were they able to capture or destroy the madman that was the cause of so many dead or dying friends and neighbors.

With the Inquisitor gone, Cullen had no choice to accept the mission, and he and Reigns painstakingly tracked down the hideout with a small group of soldiers to minimize their detection. But their efforts were in vain, and they were quickly detached from the unit. Soon, it seemed, they would be detached from the rest of themselves.

Cullen took a deep breath, panic climbing in his throat and burning his chest as he recalled the last time he was bound and tortured in the Ferelden Circle. He had seen many things happen right before him, but the difference then was that they were illusions--or so he had rationalized in order to keep his wits intact. But now, each scream he heard, each new piece of flesh that was added to the pile by their quiet captor... it was all real.

"Any ideas, Reigns?" Cullen asked quietly, struggling to keep his voice steady. Roman scanned the room, the empty eyes of the people around them showing that they were not in possession of their own minds. 

"Looks like we've got no help, but I think I've got an idea."

His flat delivery was not very assuring, and Cullen hoped this man wouldn't ever find himself in a leadership position because of his complete and total lack of charisma, but seeing as the commander had no other choice, he simply nodded. Silence burned their ears for a few moments before the rippling sounds of magic came from the kitchen again, and screams pierced the air. As the noise was there to disguise any movement in the room, Roman stood as best he could with his arms and legs tied to the chair and made his way to the doorway. With a calculated swing, Reigns threw the legs of the chair against the wall, snapping them off. From there it was just a matter of taking advantage of the compromised integrity of the chair to free himself, and soon the tall, dark man was working on Cullen's ropes. His heart soared when his arms were finally loose, and he ran to the first person he could, a woman seated on the edge of the table closest to him. He took her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake.

"Miss, it's time to go," he said quietly, trying not to attract attention. Her clouded eyes moved to his direction, but did not look at him. She pushed his hands off of her, turning her face back to whatever she had been looking at previously.

"He has chosen us," she said, voice hollow and breathy as though she were speaking with a weight on her chest. Frustrated, Cullen moved onto the others with the same results--mutterings about how they wanted to stay, how they needed this, they had been selected. Frustration made it difficult for him to keep his voice and actions quiet. He looked over at Reigns, who looked just as unbothered as before, but the way he stood over another member of their unwanted dinner party showed that he was having similar success. Cullen held up his hands hopelessly, unsure of where they were to go from here.

Footsteps creaked through the other room, and a chill ran down Cullen's spine as his eyes widened. Roman held a finger up to his lips, then held up a fist. With his other hand, he wrapped his fingers around his clenched fist and pulled the wrapped hand down and back up, cocking it like some sort of crossbow before slamming the fist into the ground. Alarmed and confused, Cullen shrugged furiously to the other before the dark-haired man got to his feet, meeting eyes with their captor who was now in the doorway and just as concerned for Reigns' mental health as Cullen was. In a moment, Roman launched himself through the air like a spear, landing square in the center of Hannibal's mass and knocking him back. Before any reaction could be made, Roman punched him twice in the face, knocking the mage out before any more could be done. Breathing heavily, Roman Reigns nodded slowly to Cullen, murmuring blandly "I can, I will... I did."

Cullen stared at the other for a long time. He was overwhelmed with emotions, from relief to fear to confusion. Finally, he opened his mouth to say what needed to be said. 

"What the hell was all that?!"


End file.
